Ketiak spray

Mustaffa Centre is not just a mall, it’s an experience. It never sleeps and it’s constantly effervescent with life, food, and shelves and shelves stacked with everything you can ever think of and need to have. I’ve bought all these stuff I couldn’t find anywhere else from parasols, pickled onions to blue hair dye and a Marc Jacob’s rip-off purse there. Very spoilt for choices.



Anyway, I accompanied Ery there last night to buy a new ketiak spray. I recommended him another brand, widely known in Ozzie for its super funky ads and its Lynx Effect: where upon application to the male’s armpit region might cause a sexy girl to lasso him back home to her lair. If I had ketiak odour or difficulty getting women for shagging purposes, this would be my brand of choice. He settled with Lynx Click, and then down we went to get his ‘other stuff’. I found myself a staircase later, slightly displaced, at the men’s underwear aisle—trying to figure out how long more I’d have to wait till he chooses his underwear (unlike other men, he’s a fussy shopper. I do the waiting most of the time.) Standing there amongst the Crocodiles and brandless white ah-pek undies, I realised that we’ve reached THAT comfort level.

THAT comfort level where we can buy ketiak spray and underwear together without batting eyelids. Ha-ha, we are barely a year old.

I do remember this first date. Enroute to the ice cream parlour, my date asked if we could stop by this shop at Parkway Parade to grab some bedak ketiak. When we reached the shop, he was on first name basis with the Kak, who efficiently dispensed the box off the counter like she’s selling Menthol Lights. I found this a turn-off. Such buys should be reserved once the relationship’s more matured? Defined?

But with Ery, I actually wanted to go and accompany him to get his ketiak spray. I wanted to be there and and make sure he makes informed decisions during such purchases. My opinions matter to him. He gives a shit about how his ketiaks smell because of me and likewise, I give a shit about how my ketiaks smell because of him. Making sure our olfactories are at peace with one another is just part of a healthy relationship.

I wonder how he’d feel if we were to go tampon shopping together. That should be the next level.

PS: The word ‘ketiak’ is mentioned eight times in this entry to create a cringe effect in readers. A more gross term that’s even more gross in Malay is ‘bulu ketiak’ which I have (unsuccessfully) refrained from including in this entry.